


Yellow

by tomurau



Category: Persona 3
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Persona 3 ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1906533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomurau/pseuds/tomurau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he thinks back on who he was and sees colors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow

You have been like this for so many years now that you aren’t really certain of the time, though you hadn’t really thought to count in the first place. Instead, you chose to rely on vague feelings—not-guesses, murky visions of the right lever to pull and thing to say—and memories of emotions, those which color your recollections of sixteen-seventeen years of life in vibrant shades of what you imagine living was like. Sometimes, when you are most lucid, your past drifting to the front of your mind and keeping its prominence long enough to keep you from fading back to semi-consciousness, you concentrate on a certain shade, recalling only snippets of thoughts and motions.

This time, you focus on when you were happy, a familiar shade of yellow, of short hair and soft fabric, both artificial. Empty, but with a sort of hope.

Your most earliest memories come first, of your childhood, of blinding light, all smiles and laughs, of overeager doting and the most innocent, purest happiness you have ever felt.

Years become a blur, ten pass, little color to brighten them, and you see through your eyes, learning to love again, meeting people and having something to live for again, the Dark Hour’s passage through those days marked to your ageless eyes with hazy yellow and blooms of lilac and green and, rarely, a flare of red as the months pass.

You see him most clearly next, his scarf a strong outline, the damning scarf that he burrowed into when he—

You see her as well, her fighting, her becoming more a more human, your interactions with her precious in the silence that you shared.

A quick, clean skip to the end of December, when you tell him that you want him to live, and he listens, a quiet and selfish sort of pride glowing inside your chest, which fades when he leaves but remains within because he’s alive and you will defeat the monster and save the world, just like you’re supposed to.

Quiet time with the girl, yellow hair that you touch sometimes, just brush your hand against lightly while you’re together, and it’s that shade of blonde that you learn to look for in the crowd and the dark.

Fighting, summoning, summoning again. It’s a satisfying feeling, knowing what you’re doing and what you’re aiming for and doing it in a way that isn’t mental or verbal, but physical and also somehow psychic and you sense, rather than see, the shine of Norn’s gold, the yellow of Masakado’s robe. Michael’s armor glints within your memory as it did within your mind while Sandalphon’s wings paint a swath of gentle, pleasing yellow over that passage of time.

Your friends’ hopes resting in you, restoring and healing you, granting you the ability to help them, to give back what they have given you.

Later. You are tired, reaching a hand up to cup her face, brushing away her tears. You don’t mind if you stay forever like this, warmth and kindness and her beautiful courage forming a sort of barrier around you, protecting you from everything. Like his scarf, you think much, much further away.

You didn’t say goodbye, and you don’t regret it, because you chose to take responsibility for all of your actions in the beginning.

You didn’t tell either of them that they were beautiful, but they were, and for whichever reason you like to think that maybe they knew, maybe they could tell somehow.

You slide away from the violent spray of yellow at the end as it fades and flickers out into nothingness.

There is nothing to add to your story. You have felt all of the happiness you needed and deserved and you take solace in the thought that maybe, just maybe, you have been able to preserve their futures, their happiness, especially hers and, with all hope, his.


End file.
